Carry Me Home
by Santiva Potter
Summary: When it comes to love, Quinn, Mercedes, Rachel and Sam discover that some things are better left unsaid—and others screamed. Post 3X14 On My Way. Faberry, Samcedes, Finchel, Quick, Quartie, Brittana, Klaine
1. Chapter 1 Still Life

**A/N & Disclaimer**: This story is tagged as Faberry, but it is so much more than that. Honestly, this is a Quinn story and her struggle with coming to terms with who she is after the accident and what that means. So while this is a Faberry story, there will be some Quick, some Quartie some Finchel (it's necessary—they're married :/ ) This is also a story about Mercedes and how her friendship with Quinn influences her personal life, especially in regards to Sam. Mr. Evans himself will play an important role on both the Faberry and Samcedes side and Santana and Brittany make significant appearances. And if you didn't notice from the tag line there's a little bit of something for every ship/broTPs. What I'm trying to say, is that I need your patience, things will span out over time slowly, but I hope in a way that you'll enjoy to read. I would also like to put a disclaimer on the fact that not only do I not own Glee, but this story is tagged as Angst. So while I love my OTPs dearly and I have a very good idea of how and where this story is going and how it will end, happy endings are not promised for anyone-though if it makes you feel better I'm nearly certain that no one is dying. Hope you enjoy!

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><p><strong>Carry Me Home<strong>

_Tonight, We Are Young_

_So let's set the world on fire_

_We can burn brighter_

_Than the sun_

_ -"We Are Young" _F.U.N feat. Janelle Monae

Ch. 1 Still Life

In the days following the accident, Sam Evans felt as if he were stuck in an old 1920s film. Time seemed to be put on hold and when people moved about—especially in Quinn Fabray's hospital room—they moved in silence, stuck in a trance. Some days Sam felt as if there was a glass window that he was being forced to peer through. There was nowhere else to go. No alternate reality to escape to. God knows he wanted one. Some days he would desperately cling to the idea of running off and not looking back, but if Sam had come to understand anything over the past year, it was the fact that reality was an omnipresent pain in the ass, and the only practical choice was to roll with punches. Right now, life was serving some serious blows.

Inside Quinn's hospital room everyone in New Directions had a purpose, a place, a state of worry. Mercedes dared to sit the closest. She had one hand encampsed around Quinn's limp right arm. The other was used to keep her upper body propped up against the bed sheets. She was in a constant state of prayer.

Santana sat the furthest from Quinn, in the middle of chairs that face the edge of the bed. She sat nearly perfectly still, expect for the fact her knees would shake ever so slightly. Her hands used to shake too, but Brittany had gotten into the habit of not leaving Santana's side, so the blonde stilled her girlfriend's tremulous hands. Kurt paced from the left side of Quinn's bed. He would start just before Santana's shaking would begin and continue until Blaine rose from his seat next to Puck to trap his boyfriend in his arms.

Puck sat against the row of chairs on the left side, closest to Quinn's monitors, his eyes never leaving his ex-girlfriend's face. Across from Puck, behind Mercedes sat Rory and Sugar, the pair of them always drifting too close to the line of cuddling. Artie would vehemently agree, though he tried to avoid eye contact with the pair. At the edge of Quinn's bed, sat Tina, her legs tucked under her chin. She would occasionally run her hands over the wrinkles in Quinn's sheets. Tina, aside from Kurt's pacing, was also the only one who ever moved—though it was at the disposition of Mike, who stood ever patiently over his girlfriend's shoulder. The furthest from Puck on the left side was Finn, whose eyes never left the soft humming of the monitors. Next to Finn, against the door, stood Sam.

This pattern had been going on for a week and a half now. They'd all arrive after school. Mrs. Fabray would take her leave for a few hours—she would spend most of the morning with her daughter—before returning promptly at 6:30. No one moved or sat in her chair, the same way Quinn gave no indication that any of them were there.

"_It's a self-induced coma," _the doctors had said. _"She has to wake herself up." _

Rachel refused to come to the hospital. Kurt, bless him, had tried but the invitation had only led to a spectacular argument outside of the choir room. Apparently, she also wasn't speaking to Finn.

Nearly every day, Mr. Schue would visit, usually around 5, checking up on everyone. Most times he brought Ms. Pillsbury, once he even Coach Sylvester. Sam was also keenly aware that their daze continued until a quarter till eight. Sugar and Rory would exit quietly just after 7:30, when visiting hours technically ended, but Mike was never able to get Tina to move from the bed until 7:45. It would lead to a chain reaction—Artie rolled out next, Blaine and Kurt behind him. Finn would slip out just before Santana and Brittany who didn't leave until Mercedes' mother. Mrs. Jones made two trips—the first to take Santana and Brittany home and the second for her own daughter. By 8:25 Sam would have led Puck out of the hospital, fought him for his keys and started the drive back to Puck's place. He had been spending the last few nights at Puck's. He, Mike and Artie agreed that Puck was among the few in New Directions who should probably be watched. Puck's house wasn't exactly handicap friendly, so Artie was charged with checking up on Mercedes. Sam tried not to be too upset about that.

Puck's house was simple enough. His mom was kind, his sister often reminding Sam of a grown up Stacie. Puck normally didn't say much, but his mother made a point to ask Sam about his day, how he was doing. Sam wished he had something more interesting to say in response, but since Quinn went into the hospital his world had turned into a still life.

"Long day?" Ms. Puckerman asked Sam watching Puck tread up the stairs. She was a tired looking woman, and seemed to age as the minutes passed.

"A bit," Sam replied. "Nothing's changed yet. Quinn is still…"

"Asleep," Ms. Puckerman offered. "I'm sure she'll wake soon. Are you hungry, Sam?"

At the Puckerman's Sam often felt like he was still in the hospital. Certain events repeated itself without fail: Puck's sister, Laura, would wish her mother a good night while Sam ate quietly, and Ms. Puckerman cleaned. The young girl would then curl up next to Puck in his bed until their mother came up with food. Sam would be in the shower by then. When he got out, Puck's untouched food would be waiting on the top dresser, his mother and Laura gone. Puck would go into the bathroom to get ready for bed as Sam set up his air matress. They were both down by 11 pm, but Sam would wager that neither of them slept till at least 1.

The monotony stopped on a Thursday.

Early in that morning, Puck had refused to go to school. It was like pulling teeth every day trying to get Puck to school and that morning no one felt like fighting with him. Ms. Puckerman and Laura were gone by 9 and Sam decided that he would follow in Puck's lead and take just one day off. He tried to get Puck to play video games, toss a football around, anything to blow off some steam, but Puck wouldn't leave his bed and by noon Sam needed out. Lacking the patience to deal with even a half a day of school, or worse a somber Glee club meeting, Sam borrowed Puck's truck, placing the phone next to his friend's pillow and left. He drove around Lima until he found himself parking the truck near the Grace Hill Park. He and Mercedes had graced through the playground and picnic areas often during the summer with Stevie and Stacie. He'd enjoyed coming here to think upon his return, but since Valentine's Day, Sam found himself without the time for it.

For the most part the park was empty. A few mothers with their infant sons and daughters played around the swing sets and slides. The lack of faces made it easier to spot a familiar one—not that the double-breasted rainbow striped jacket and fluorescent green tight didn't help either.

Rachel Berry sat on the furthest bench from the playground. She didn't acknowledge Sam's presence until he sat down next to her and said, "We've missed you at the hospital."

"Well Finn is there," Rachel answered softly after a moment, starring off into space, "so I'm technically there in spirit."

"Rachel," Sam tried, "I know you feel guilty—"

"No you don't," Rachel snapped, her body stiffing. "You have _no _idea how I feel."

Sam leaned forward, watching the families play in bliss. "She's not dead."

"Not yet."

"It's just a coma…"

"It's been almost two weeks!" She turned to glare at Sam, her eyes lighting with rage. "How much longer are we going to be forced to wait?"

"I don't know Rachel," Sam sighed. "But we'll get through this together. That's what Glee club is for, to lean on each other."

"No," Rachel refused. "I'm not going back there. I can't, not when I know…"

"Know what, Rachel?" Sam pressed. "_Know what?"_

The fear in her eyes unsettled Sam. He tried to reach out for her, but Rachel slipped from his grasp and paced in front of the bench.

"I can't."

"Rachel, talk to me," Sam begged, grasping her firmly. "You can trust me."

That's who he was: trustworthy Sam, Sam I am. He had ben everyone else's rock for the last two weeks—babysitting Puck, watching over the zombie version of his friends, holding his breath over every beep that Quinn's monitors made—but no one unsettled him more than the petit brunette.

"I-I think Quinn likes me."

"Of course she lik—"

"No Sam, _likes _me. She _likes _me."

Sam froze, racking his brain for any clues that would support such an idea. He couldn't remember anything odd about Quinn's behavior towards Rachel. _Though two weeks ago you didn't know what color your shirt was, unless Mercedes mentioned it. __**And **__you totally blanked on the whole Santana-Brittany debacle last year…_

"Are you sure?" Sam asked softly. Despite it all, he wouldn't put it past Rachel to misread any intentions; after all, it only took one bottle of lemon juice last year for half of McKinley to think he was gay.

Rachel nodded meekly. "It started at the bridal shop. We'd gotten into this argument about the wedding…she was practically screamed at me that she wasn't going to stand by while I wasted my life marrying Finn. There was…there was something in her eyes when she said it. I just knew."

Rachel had come to sit back down on the bench, her head in her hands. "And after sectionals, she had just gotten her uniform back, and she asked…asked if I had been singing for Finn, just…Finn."

Sam found himself in a complete loss for words. He wanted to ask, but knew couldn't. It would get them nowhere—Rachel would probably just close up again. _Hell, she probably doesn't even know the answer! _

"If Quinn likes you," Sam began carefully, "then you owe it to her to visit her."

"Sam, I—"

"No, Rachel, what you can't do is wallow in this self-pity and regret. If this is going to be the last time you see Quinn don't you at least want to say good-bye? Don't you love Quinn enough for that?"

"Of course," Rachel choked. "Quinn and I are…"

"You don't have to define it," Sam cut in. "Just come and see her."

Sam left Rachel in the park, opting to give her some space to think, but by 4 o'clock, he wished he hadn't. Everyone was back into their pattern in the hospital. At 5, Mr. Schuester arrived with Ms. Pillsbury. They toured the room speaking in low tones with each of them.

"Sam, a word?"

He didn't notice Mr. Schue's presence until he was right in front of him, but followed his teacher out the door.

"You've been really strong through all of this," Mr. Schue complimented. "I half expected you to react more like Finn or Puck. I know how close you were with her."

Had he been close to Quinn? Once maybe, he thought, but that relationship had been so superficial, especially in comparison to what he shared with Mercedes over the summer. But Sam couldn't deny the fact that he was still in pain, his body numb from the last few weeks. They had been steadily getting closer, re-building their friendship, so as his friend it did hurt Sam to see Quinn hurt. What hurt more, however, was the fact that it could have been any one of them. What if Tina had been running late? Or Santana or Mercedes?

Sam closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

"Sam, she'll be fine," Mr. Schue assured, clasping Sam's shoulder. "Just hang in there and if you ever need anyone to talk to—"

"I'll find you."

Mr. Schue led the way back inside. He and Ms. Pillsbury lingered for a few more minutes before taking their leave. Glancing at the clock, Sam realized that it would be six soon—Mike and Artie would start alternating on food delivery. Sometimes they would bring or order food or pick up snacks from the cafeteria on the lower floors. It was always Sam's job to keep an eye on the group while they stepped out. Mike looked as if he were ready to leave, when the door reopened.

Rachel, still clad in her rainbow jacket and green tights, walked in slowly. She gave Finn a small, nervous smile. She and Sam locked eyes from the briefest of moments, before Rachel glided to the head of bed, across from Mercedes. Kurt stopped pacing at her arrival, Tina looked up and even Santana watched Rachel with a critical eye. Mercedes didn't notice her arrival, still bent in prayer, but when she rose, Mercy gave Rachel a ghost of a smile. The tears in her eyes stung Sam to no end.

"Praying?" Rachel asked softly.

"Every prayer I know." Mercedes' voice cracked slightly as she spoke, wiping away a few errand tears.

"Mind if I start with some Jewish prayers?"

"Be my guest. It can't hurt. Noah," Mercedes called out softly, "get over here and help Rachel. Two prayers are always better than one."

Puck rose slowly to stand next to Rachel, grabbing her hand. "I don't know much…"

"That's okay," Rachel said slowly, her voice thick with emotion. "We can do a group prayer instead."

Sam watched as hands laced among his friends, creating an oval around Quinn's bed—until he realized that he was the only one out of the circle.

"Sammy," Mercedes called out to him softly. "Pray."

At first he thought it was just an invitation to join the circle, but when Mercedes and Rachel closed their eyes and waited, Sam began to object.

"I'm not—I can't really—"

"Pray now," Kurt pressed, his eyes shut, "or I will start dying your hair back to that atrocious lemon juice blonde."

Laughter echoed softly in the room, whispering amongst the teens, though no one was quite sure who had started it.

"Fine then," Sam ceded. "Dear—To God or Allah, Christ or whoever can hear this…thank you. When we're on the brink of losing people we love, it's easy to forget about all of the good stuff. The times we've shared, memories made. We neglect our loved ones, family members and friends just to bask in our own misery and grief, but I—we just want to say thank you...for this club, for our friendships, for the love that we have for one another. For Quinn Fabray. Some people, some people think that she's a bit crazy…and maybe she is, but we love her. We need her. She's a part of our family and we can't go without her…_please, _please don't make us. We may fight like toddlers, but the love that we have for one another, the love that's in this room…it's beyond words. So please, we ask that you just heal Quinn and bring her back to us…Amen."

Several amens followed as Mercedes gave Sam a small smile.

"That was beautiful Sam," Blaine said.

"Yeah," Tina agreed. "I don't know how God'll feel about you calling Quinn crazy in a prayer, but…"

Laughter came easier this time, though it still felt a bit too soon.

"Y'know so long as no one breaks into song," Santana half-teased, "I think we can count this as a good moment for us."

"Singing is actually quite therapeutic," Rachel corrected, trying to rid herself of runaway tears. "It action might…do some good."

"_Tears stream, down your face,_" Mercedes sang softly. "_When you lose something you cannot replace_."

"_Tears stream,_" Tina joined, _"down your face, and I…"_

"_Tears stream," _Rachel's voice carried over all the others who had fallen in line after Tina and Mercedes. She took a hold of Quinn's hands and placed them in her own. "_I promise you I will learn from my mistakes."_

"_Lights will guide you home,"_ Mercedes sang.

"_And ignite your bones," _Santana followed, bringing Brittany closer to her.

"_And I will try, to fix you." _

As the soft hum of Rachel's final note echoed in the room, a low but definite groan was heard.

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><p>Song Credits: "Fix You" - Coldplay<p>

Thanks for reading, please don't forget to review [and if anyone is interesting in possibly beta reading, let me know :) ]

Much Love,

Santiva Potter


	2. Chapter 2 Eyes Wide Shut

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Glee

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><p><strong>Carry Me Home<strong> **  
><strong>

_But between the drinks and subtle things _

_The holes in my apologies _

_You know, I'm trying hard to take it back_

_ -_FUN. feat Janelle Monae

Chapter 2 – Eyes Wide Shut

Chaos erupted from nowhere. At least, that's how Sam saw it.

One minute a calm moment with his Glee pals, the next everyone is running around with their heads chopped off, but for once Sam supposed, they had a right.

"Someone call Quinn's mother!" someone—Tina perhaps—yelled.

Kurt seemed to be crying or dancing, _something. _Finn was babbling nonsense and poor Rory was getting the life shaken out of him by Sugar.

"Enough!" The room stilled under Sam's voice as he made his way to the head of Quinn's bed. Mercedes stood on the other side trying to coax Quinn into responding again.

"Quinn?" Sam called out softly.

Another moan clear as day could be heard.

"Mike, get the doctor," Artie instructed. "Santana, call Mrs. Fabray."

"Que this is Mercy. We're all here. You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay." The chant broke Mercedes' voice and Sam wondered if he should say something to her. She looked so tired; he couldn't imagine her getting much sleep in the past two weeks and for the first time it showed.

"Excuse me." The doctor had arrived and made his way to Quinn's bedside. Sam took a step back to give room, bumping right into Rachel.

"Is she going to be okay? She's okay right?" Sugar pressed.

"Her vitals seem steady," the doctor mumbled.

"I swear to God she was just groaning," Santana snapped. "We all heart it."

"Are you sure you didn't—"

The doctor's suspicions were cut off by Santana's glare and Quinn's confirmation. This was her loudest groan yet.

"It sounds like she's trying to say something," Rory said.

"Quinn," the doctor said slowly. "If you can hear me I need you to squeeze your friend—"

"—Mercedes," Blaine supplied.

"—Mercedes' hand," the doctor finished. "Just a small squeeze."

Mercedes could barely keep herself upright when Quinn did.

"Que, I'm right here," she smiled.

"Ra…Rac...Rac…"

"What is she trying to say?" Brittany asked Santana.

"Rac…rach…maybe 'reach'?" Finn shrugged.

_Maybe Rachel_. The words were at the tip of Sam's tongue but it would have been beyond inappropriate to go there; though Sam couldn't keep himself from side-eyeing the brunette.

"If she wanted to say 'reach', she'd just say it," Santana argued. "Maybe it's—"

"Mer…Merce…"

"I'm right here, Que," Mercedes smiled, squeezing her hand. "We're all here."

Quinn's eyes began to flutter, slowly at first before picking up speed until her emerald eyes were seen clear as day, starring back at everyone in wonder.

"Where…where am I?"

"Quinn, my name is Doctor Stephen Tyler. You're currently at the Lima General Hospital. You were in a car accident and suppressed a very serious concussion, along with some heavy damages to your right leg" Doctor Tyler expressed cautiously.

"Acc...Accident…wait...what?"

"Quinn, I need you to calm down," Doctor Tyler instructed as Quinn's monitors crescendo dramatically. "Take some deep breaths."

"Wait…wait…Rach...Rachel…the wedding—"

"Finn and Rachel are both here, Quinn," Sam said. "Everyone is."

"It'll probably be best if we continued this with a bit more privacy," Doctor Tyler said lightly.

"Of course," Blaine replied. "We'll just step—"

"No!" Quinn croaked as the monitors shot up again. "Mercy…Rachel, stay."

Sam could feel Rachel freeze behind him as Mercedes quickly agreed to stay by Quinn's side.

"Actually Quinn, I have to go," Rachel began slowly. "I have this…event that I need to be at."

"Are you shitting me right now, Hobbit?" Santana started lowly.

"I don't expect you to understand, Santana, but Quinn, I really am sorry" Rachel continued, stepping from behind Sam's shadow, edging backwards. "My dads are expecting me after all."

"Rachel," Mercedes half-growled.

"Babe, stay," Finn pressed softly.

"They've been waiting for hours," Rachel snipped. "They didn't even know that I was coming here so…I-I have to go."

She was nearly at the door by this point but Quinn hadn't said anything. She didn't even really let her eyes do any talking—that was one of the things Sam almost missed about Quinn: he had always found her an easy book to read, even if that meant favoring some chapters over others. But this look, the way she starred at Rachel, her eyes neither angry nor forgiving, reminded Sam of the first time he ran into Quinn during the summer after Mercedes confessed about their relationship.

He shuddered slightly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Quinn," Mercedes announced softly as Rachel slipped out.

"Yeah, and Santana got a hold of your mother. She's going to be here soon," Tina added beaming.

"We'll all be just outside, in case you need anything," Artie assured. "Come on y'all let's give her some space."

Finn led the way out, down the hall and to one of the empty waiting rooms, where Tina was the first to unload.

"Oh God, she's awake!"

Celebration thrived between them. It was almost as if these last few weeks hadn't occurred, a gift Sam would dearly cherish, and everyone felt as if at last they could all breathe easy.

"Not to completely ruin the mood," Santana began, smiling wickedly, "but Finn, what the hell is wrong with the Dwarf? She couldn't stick around for five extra minutes?"

"Lay off Santana," Finn frowned. "Quinn's accident has been really hard for Rachel."

"And it hasn't been for the rest of us?" Santana snapped. "Britts and I have known Quinn longer _and _been closer to her than any of you combined—but had she asked one of us, we would have jumped at the chance to stick around."

"Just because you're upset that Quinn didn't ask you—"

"Okay," Mike stepped in, putting some necessary distance between Santana and Finn before the feisty Latina tried to rearrange Finn's face. "Let's calm down, guys. Quinn just woke up. We shouldn't be fighting!"

"Mike's right," Kurt added. "We should be celebrating and it's nearly dinner time. So, I suggest that we go out to dinner, a la Breadstix, and toast to Quinn's good health. Besides, if I have to look at hospital food, Chinese takeout or pizza again, I'm going to commit myself."

"That's a great idea," Tina said. Animosity was dissipating from the room, despite the frown that was still laced on Santana's face.

"Someone will have to hang back and wait on Mercedes—"

"I can," Sam offered. Kurt shot him a sly grin.

"Oh please," Santana frowned.

"What?" Sam shrugged. "Besides I want to hear about Qu—"

"You're not fooling anyone here, Evans. What _you _want is to try to sweet talk Mercedes. You don't give a shit about Quinn."

"That's a lie," Sam snapped. He could feel his face turning red as all of his friends turned to them.

"Guys, remember, we're supposed to be celebrating," Tina stressed.

"Well maybe if _someone _stopped trying to pick fights—"

"Can it, Fetus Face," Santana snapped. "No one is talking to you."

"Well, I for one think it's a fabulous idea," Kurt cut in. "So why don't we all just head out so we can get a table. Sam, we'll save some seats for you and Mercy."

All of the New Directions filled out of the waiting room—except for Santana. She stood her ground against Sam, only breaking eye contact to tell Brittany, "I'll be out there in a few minutes, Just wait for me by the car."

"Brought your own car, I see," Sam said after a few minutes, still glaring at his ex.

"Mommy dearest said that if I didn't start driving my ass here, instead of wasting Mrs. Jones' gas, she'd string me up by my toes," Santana shrugged.

"You're full of shit, by the way," she said after a few more minutes.

"I'm not doing this again with you."

"We shouldn't have to do it all, because you shouldn't _be here. _You trying to woo Mercedes back into your life is a complete waste of time—as you, Samuel Evans, lack a fundamental amount of game."

"Done yet?"

"No, I'm not," Santana replied. "See what you don't seem to understand is that while you were running around Kentucky swallowing babies whole, Mercedes and I became Troubletone sisters. I will _**end **_you before I watch her get hurt again. So go ahead, waste your time, but once 'Cedes gives you a verbal ass whopping for your pathetic puppy dog act, you will text me and then after the minimal fifteen minutes it takes to get to Breadstix from Lima General, you will show up with Mercy. Any longer and I'll know you did something and you'll be the one strung by your toes."

"Nothing is going to happen between me and Mercy," Sam bit out.

"That's the damn truth; though we can't say the same thing about Rachel, now can we?"

"Excuse me?"

"Please Sam recognize a compliment when you see one. I know you talked Rachel into coming to the hospital today. You were nearly a half hour late, without Puck and if that wasn't enough, that little secret look she shot you right before she went to Quinn—"

"Rachel and I aren't thing. We do—I'm not—"

"I _know_ Sam."

Sam had to keep himself from jerking his head forward. "You _know_? What do you mean 'you know'?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Of _course _I know. Last year I was the poster child for closeted lesbians."

"She could just be bi-sexual."

" Or she could just be straight," Santana countered.

"Rachel isn't just straight," Sam argued.

"Rachel Berry doesn't know what she is right now," Santana corrected. "It's called denial and it's a bitch, which is why Quinn doesn't need to know _anything_."

Sam nodded as Santana gazed lazily at the clock.

"Look, I'd love to stick around and school you some more, Trouts, but I've got some serious lady kisses waiting for me outside. Remember, fifteen minutes or I'm donating your balls to the National Cancer Society for research purposes—that way they'll be put to some actual good use."

"By that are you suggesting that I have magic sperm?"

Santana's face turned into the poster-child for disgust. "What Aretha ever saw in you, is beyond me. You've obviously been spending way too much time with Puckerman."

Sam flashed Santana a winning smile.

It took only twenty minutes for Mercedes to re-emerge. Sam had moved to the hall right outside Quinn's door and gulped when she caught his eye.

"Where is everyone?" Mercedes asked slowly.

"Breadstix," Sam answered. "Kurt suggested it, to celebrate."

Mercedes nodded before she started to make her way past Sam.

"'Cedes wait," Sam called out to her, hot on her heels. "What's—how's Quinn?"

"She'll be fine," Mercedes replied, strutting forward. "The doctor says that she'll be wheelchair bound for at least three weeks. She'll have to go through surgery and if everything goes well then she can go to crutches until his call."

"That—that's great."

"Yeah."

"Mercedes, can you, can you just stop for a minute."

"What are you doing here Sam?" Mercedes asked turning to him.

"What are you talking—"

"Why stay? You could have just sent me a text message. I know how to get to Breadstix."

"I wanted to make sure that you got there alright. I know that this week has been pretty emotional for—"

"Oh, so now I'm some damsel in distress that needs your particular brand of heroism?" Mercedes snapped, marching out of the front doors.

"No! Of course not! 'Cedes—"

"Then, why are you here Sam?"

He'd finally made his way up to her, but Mercedes' hand slipped from Sam's the minute he grasped it.

"I was worried about you," Sam confessed. "I wanted to make sure that you were okay."

"Why? You're not my boyfriend, Sam. I don't need your protection."

"I know that," Sam bit out, "but you're my friend, so that's plenty reason for me to give it."

"See that's where you're wrong!"

They'd reached her car, but in a flash Mercedes pivoted towards him. "I can see right through those puppy dog eyes and pained look."

"This isn't some sort of game, Mercedes," Sam frowned.

"Isn't it, though?"

The air hung thick between them and Sam's chest felt heavy. He knew that he should walk away, before either of them said something that could burn bridges, but Sam was trapped. Even when she was in a rage, Mercedes' gaze always held his utmost attention.

"Look Sam," she started again, in softer tones. "I wasn't lying when I told you last fall that you'll always have a special place in my heart." She moved closer to him, her hands gripping the coattails of his beige jacket. "You do, and you always will. Having your love last summer was like…it was everything to me. But we have to stop doing this. I need space, Sam and I can't do that with your hovering."

"I'm not hovering," Sam defended. Had she not noticed anything he'd done in the past two weeks—all the things he _hadn't_?

"Yes, you are," she said softly.

Sam took a step back from her and she moved forward, as if he was the open book, seeing that she may have pushed him too far.

"Let me take you to Breadstix," Mercedes said.

"No, I can walk," Sam replied.

"Sammy—"

"Don't."

She avoided his gaze for a few moments before continuing, "It's a forty-five minute walk from here Sam. Let me take you to Breadstix."

They drove in near silence to the restaurant, the only noise being that of soft jazz from the radio. When they arrived, Mercedes pulled up to the front door instead of parking.

"I'm exhausted. Tell everyone I'm sorry, but I'm going to head home," she said after a moment.

Sam nodded slowly as he collected himself. "You know, I was genuinely worried about," he began in a low voice.

"Sam—"

"No 'Cede," Sam argued. "Hovering is walking you to class every day, texting, calling to make sure that you're okay. Hovering is convincing you to go to the Lima Bean with me so that we can talk about you and Quinn. Hovering is showing up at your place unannounced on a Sunday afternoon just because I care. But wanting to drive you to Breadstix because I _know _how much you care about Quinn, your soul sister, and I can see how this nightmare of a rollercoaster has started to affect you—that's not hovering; that's my _friendship. _And you know what…maybe it is, but god dammit Mercedes, I'm trying."

The door shook on Sam's way out and Mercedes could barely keep her emotion in check. He was halfway to the door when she called out to him.

"I-We missed you today, in Glee club," she said softly from her window. "It wasn't the same without you, Sam. And...and I'll text Santana once I make it home, that way no one will have to worry."

Sam nodded stiffly and turned back to the restaurant as the rumble of Mercedes' car faded behind him. Once inside, Santana was the first to see Sam, but let Tina announce his presence.

"Sam! Where's Mercedes?"

"She decided to head home," Sam said taking a seat next to Artie. "She was really tired."

"Well, we ordered for both of you. I guess, I'll just have to take Aretha her meal later," Santana shrugged. "No matter, that's more stixs for me."

"Breadsticks tyrant," Blaine grumbled.

"Sam, here is your chicken alfredo," Kurt said passing him a plate. He smiled tightly in thanks and dug in.

The rest of the evening was relaxing, for the most part. Finn dipped out early—he wanted to go check in on Rachel and Sugar parted ways soon after that—but not before giving Rory a sloppy wet one—though if Sam were being honest with himself, even a quick peck would have made his stomach churn.

"I'm going to take a leak," Puck announced towards the end of dinner.

"Hey, let me know when you're ready to roll," Sam called out behind him.

"Actually, Puck is coming back with me," Artie said.

"Oh."

"Yeah, I mean, you've done a great job, but frankly…you look like shit Sam. Why don't you go home and chill…unless you want to come with us?"

"No, no, you're right," Sam said. "I think I'm just going to head back to the Hummel's and take a break."

He rode back with Kurt and Blaine. Blaine had left his car in Kurt's driveway, so the pair strayed by it when they made it back to Kurt's. Sam went straight up, and ran into Carol Hudson-Hummel, who was coming out of the kitchen.

"Sam!"

She gave him a large smile and opened her arms for him. Sam instantly accepted the hug and contemplated holding on for longer than necessary—he deserved that, right?

"Kurt told us about Quinn," she beamed once Sam had stepped back. "That's so exciting! Is…is everything alright, sweetheart?"

"Yeah—yeah, it's just been a long day," Sam answered.

"Okay, well get some rest. Oh! Your mother called, she wants you to give her a ring, when you get the chance."

Sam nodded and made his way up, two steps at a time, to his room. After a lengthy shower, Sam was ready to curl himself into the bed, when Kurt walked in.

"I thought you were trying to drown yourself in there," Kurt teased.

"Nawh, water felt too good," Sam shrugged, making himself comfortable.

"Well, I won't take up too much of your time," Kurt promised. "I just—I guessed things didn't work out quite as planned with Mercedes tonight."

"Kurt," Sam groaned. "I really don't want to go there."

"I know, I know. It's just that, Mercedes is a stubborn girl, but she loves you," Kurt reminded softly. "And sometimes, it's hard for us to see and accept those who love us, even with our eyes wide open. I just don't want you to give up hope, while the rest of us are trying to bring her back to reality." Kurt smiled sadly, and made his way back to the door. "She truly does love you Sam."

"I know," Sam grumbled, when Kurt had left, rolling over in the sheets. "That's the best part."

* * *

><p>I'm glad you all enjoyed the first chapter (and hopefully you enjoyed the second)! Thank you for all your lovely reviews and alerts.<p>

Another update should heading your way later in the week, once I can get a better grasp on the mechanics of the next few chapters.

Thank you as always for reading and please don't forget to review!

Much Love,

Santiva Potter


	3. Chapter 3 Soul Sisters

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Glee

* * *

><p>Carry Me Home<p>

_Give me a second I _

_I need to get my story straight _

_My friends are in the bathroom _

_getting higher than the Empire State _

- "We Are Young" FUN. feat. Janelle Monae

Chapter 3 – Soul Sisters

"Dude, you still look like shit," Mike said as he and Sam passed through the halls of McKinley. It was a new week and everyone seemed to be benefiting from the good news about Quinn—everyone but Sam. "I mean, did you sleep at _all_?" Mike asked.

The irony was that Sam had slept all weekend and when he wasn't sleeping, he was arguing with Kurt about why he was so indisposed and missing all of the 'bonding time'.

"Got plenty of sleep," Sam said. "I don't know must of have not slept enough. I do know one thing, it was better than bunking with Puckerman on that air mattress."

"At least you got an air mattress!" Mike complained. "When I stayed late at Tina's I always ended up on the floor because the living room couch was too far and her dad would have killed us if he found me in the bed."

They turned into the choir room where most of the New Directions were already seated. Sam took a seat next to Artie just before Mr. Schue walked in.

"Alright guys…"

The voices turned into background noise as their meeting began. Mike was right—he did look like crap and Sam could feel it. More than anything, he wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep till tomorrow or perhaps until after his Trig exam.

"—isn't that right Sam?"

"What?" A few of his friends snickered as Sam became aware of the fact that everyone was looking at him.

"I was just saying how everyone has been pretty distracted since Regionals, and while we're ecstatic about Quinn's recovery, we need to start focusing our energy on Nationals," Mr. Schuester repeated.

"Right," Sam said weakly. "Go team."

"Which brings me to the lesson for this week," Mr. Schue announced, turning to the whiteboard. "Get Pumped. I want each of you to get together with one or two others and preform an upbeat number. Now this doesn't have to be specifically for Nationals, but we need to get the creative juices flowing, especially if we're going to best Vocal Adrenaline this year."

"Well, Mr. Schue, a few of us have been working on this number, that I think fits perfectly, if you don't mind," Blaine said.

"The floor is yours."

Blaine made his way down, Finn following him and Puck grabbed two guitars before all three of them starred at Sam.

"Dude!"

As he stumbled to his feet, Puck passed Sam a guitar and Blaine hissed, "You _do _remember the song, right?"

"Song? Yeah, I remember."

Puck rolled his eyes.

"I think I speak for everyone in saying that these last few weeks have been nothing short of stressful," Blaine began. "But as Sam said last week, we're a family and we have some much to be thankful for—so that's party shall we?"

_It's been a really, really messed up week  
>Seven days of torture, seven days of bitter<br>And my girlfriend went and cheated on me  
>She's a California dime but it's time for me to quit her<em>

Blaine sashayed around the room, flirting with Brittany and Santana along the way, as Sam's fingers found the chords to play. At least some part of his body was functioning properly today.

_We're going at it tonight, tonight  
>There's a party on the rooftop top of the world<br>Tonight, tonight and were dancing on the edge of the Hollywood sign  
>I don't know if I'll make it but watch how good I'll fake it<br>It's all right, all right, tonight, tonight_

Sam had practiced this song, several times in fact, with Blaine, Puck and Finn in Burt's garage, but that had started just before Regionals in an attempt to let off some steam. Had they really set a date on preforming it in Glee club?

_It's you and me and were running this town  
>And it's me and you and were shaking the ground<br>And ain't nobody gonna tell us to go cause this is our show_

The rest of New Directions seemed to love the song, even Santana was smiling. The energy around him was infectious as Sam finally found himself waking up to get lost in the music. _Damn, I needed this_. The floor was now crowded with his classmates singing and dancing with the type of enthusiasm that Sam hadn't seen since Michael week.

_Just don't stop let's keep the beat pumping  
>Keep the beat up, lets drop the beat down<br>Its my party dance if I want to  
>We can get crazy let it all out<em>

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Mr. Schue cheered after the final chords were played. "So, now I want the rest of you to follow in their lead: find an upbeat song, bring it and show us what you've got!"

On the other side of town, Quinn Fabray wasn't didn't have much to give. Everything hurt—her eyes from the brightness of the room, her head from the drugs they were supplying her and her leg—just thinking about her damaged right leg made Quinn swell in anguish. To say that she hated hospitals would be one of the biggest understatements since, "Congratulations, you're _pregnant_." Everything that didn't remind her of giving birth to Beth, reminded her of the accident, of Rachel…

"Que?"

Mercedes headed popped in from the door and Quinn gladly welcomed the chance of distraction.

"Mercy!" Quinn smiled.

"I brought a few familiar faces with me this time." After Mercedes filled in Tina, Santana and—

"Is that Brittany?" Quinn laughed. Her blonde friend was hidden behind a life size panda doll that had a red ribbon wrapped around its neck and the right ear half-bitten off.

"This is Princess Buttercup," Tina giggled.

"She heard about your accident and wanted to see you," Brittany explained setting the large bear down at the end of the bed. "I thought you'd want some company. I wanted to bring Lord Tubbington but he doesn't like people…"

Quinn smiled. "Thanks Brittany."

"And we wanted to check-in on _our _favorite Princess," Santana teased.

"Oh I'm getting demoted from Ice Queen, I see," Quinn replied. It was good to see the girls. They all seemed to carry an energy and easiness that Quinn missed and desperately craved. "So, was this just a girl's thing? Where's Rachel…and Sugar?"

"Sugar is still probably sucking faces with Rory—they do that everywhere!" Tina said.

"Excuse you?" Mercedes laughed. "Mr. Schue has had to detach you and Mike more times than Finn and Rachel!"

"I die inside when they kiss," Brittany announced.

"We all do, Britt," Mercedes smiled. "But Diva's with Finn. They're married now. I guess it's time they started acting like it."

"She went through with the wedding?" Quinn repeated. Was it wrong of her to have hoped that the accident would have stalled them—at least made Rachel think twice?

"Yep, Finnocence and the Hobbit get to ruin each other's lives from now till eternity and you know what, I say let them." Santana shrugged. "Personally, I am sick of watching them get together and break up and then be forced to watch them try to suck each other's faces off. Though, let's be real here, the divorce Amtrak is headed towards them faster than our graduation express."

"Santana, that's a horrible thing to say!" Tina objected.

"Please! Everyone is thinking it," Santana said. "This whole marriage sham is crazy, but let Rachel screw up. She has to figure it out on her own."

There was something odd about the way Santana said it, Quinn decided as Tina kept talking. Her eyes had roamed the whole room during her speech, but settled uneasily on Quinn's—just for a brief moment and Quinn could have sworn for a second that…no, that was impossible.

"How's Glee club?" Quinn asked. The girls instantly went into Mr. Schue's assignment for the week and the boy's performance.

"Sam may have looked like the living dead in class, but if that's death," Tina grinned, "then I'm all for it!"

"Don't you have a boyfriend, missy?" Mercedes countered.

"Sure do, but Sam is single and he's _beautiful_. If you're not going to take him Mercedes, then I'm sure as hell going to at least admire your loss."

"Sour face is right," Santana added. "Trouty mouth may not have game, but when that body rolls and he's playing that guitar—let's just say he makes me reconsider a few things…"

"Santana!"

"What, 'Retha? When he's not talking about Avatar or his comic book obsession or the fact that he thinks his penis is magical, Sam Evans manages to be attractive."

Quinn and Tina nearly choked.

"You've talked to Sam about his penis?" Mercedes grumbled.

"Have _you _talked to Sam about his penis?" Santana countered. "Because if the green in your cheeks and the tent that he was sporting after watching you dance during his performance today has any merit, then the two of you should find an empty janitor's closet stat!"

"Why a janitor's—"

"Okay, that's enough," Quinn interjected, cutting Brittany off. "For my sake at lease, let's please get off of the top of Sam's penis."

"Of course," Mercedes agreed. "We came here for you."

"Speaking of which, how are you holding up?" Tina asked seriously.

"I-I'm…okay. I'll have the wheelchair for about three weeks which isn't too bad…"

"At least it isn't permanent," Mercedes offered.

"Yeah, and then surgery, crutches after that and when that's done—"

"You'll be good as new," Santana finished.

"Quinnie?"

Mrs. Fabray had arrived, cracking the door open and smiled seeing all the girls. "Do you mind if we interrupt?"

Quinn frowned at 'we' and groaned internally when she spotted her father coming through the door. Apparently her accident had _"hit him hard" _and now Russell Fabray wanted back into his ex-wife and daughter's lives. _'He is your father,'_ her mother had reminded. No final decisions had been made on the matter, but the mere idea still made Quinn sick.

The girls introduced themselves for Mr. Fabray's benefit, starting with Tina. He stared long and hard at Brittany and Santana who were cozied up in the same chair, Brittany resting in Santana's lap, with her girlfriend's arm wrapped around her waist. He gave them, what Quinn liked to call, the 'practiced patience' look, reserved for the lowest of acquaintances and strangers. Santana replied with one of her signature snarky smirks.

When Mercedes introduced herself as Quinn's soul sister, Quinn wanted to also add the bit about her family supporting her through the last few months of her pregnancy—feeding her, clothing her, getting anything that the baby needed—that _she _needed, but Judy Fabray's eyes begged her daughter not to go there.

"Well, we should probably get going," Tina said. "Lunch is almost over."

"Yeah, Que, we'll swing by later, alright?"

Quinn wished them well, watching them file out and then he spoke.

"Those two girls—Santana and Brittany," her father began. "Now, they're…"

"Dating, yes," Quinn answered. "They're sweet girls."

"Oh of course, I'm sure," Mr. Fabray agreed. "But, nonetheless, it'll be good to have you home soon Quinnie."

"And what is that supposed to mean exactly?"

"Russell," her mother begged.

"It's nothing, sweetheart," he continued, unaware of the way his daughter flinched when he used the endearing term. "It'll just be good for the three of us to be together again. That way your mother and I can make sure that certain…influences—practices are upheld."

"There's nothing wrong with Brittany and Santana," Quinn snapped.

"That's not what I'm—"

"No, you're not worried that because I'm friends with them that I'll be bit by some lesbian bug? Glad to hear it, because that would be _ridiculous,_" Quinn snarled, _"_especially, coming from a man who abandoned his daughter when she was 16 and pregnant and then started an illicit affair with some tattooed slut!"

"Young lady, don't you—"

"Alright, that's quite enough for today, you two," Judy Fabray intervened. "Quinnie, I'm going to take your father downstairs for a bit. Why don't you just turn on the television and relax for a bit. I'll be back in a few," she said ushering her ex-husband out.

_She can't go back to him, she can't back to him,_ Quinn internally chanted. The walls around her started to shake and she didn't even realize that she had started crying hysterically until a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her torso—Mercedes, who had undoubtedly heard everything.

"I can't go back there," Quinn cried into her breast. "I can't go back to living with him."

"You don't have to," Mercedes promised.

"What do you think is going to happen once I get out of here?" Quinn snapped pulling from her embrace. "Our house isn't exactly handicap accessible! He'll want us to go to his place, where there a bedroom on the first floor and before you know it they'll be married again and—"

"Or you could come back to my place," Mercedes offered.

"What?"

"Nana passed a few weeks ago—Valentine's day actually," Mercedes confessed, "so the guest bedroom on the first floor is free and your room is still empty so your mother could stay there, at least until you get the crutches and can move back into your old place."

"But...but she was your _grandmother_—"

"I know, but it'll do us all some good. Daddy is still in love with you and Mama can barely keep herself together every time she passes that side of the hall. It'll be good for us. Nana would have wanted that."

Quinn nodded solemnly, unsure about the idea, but also wondering what she must have done in a past life to deserve such a kind friend, especially one with such a giving family.

"And I can even talk to your mom," Mercedes continued. "We all know that no one can deny this diva. But if your dad plans on sticking around, he is going have to leave those homophobic games at the front door because Britt and Santana swing by every Saturday morning for breakfast; Mama and Dev love Britt to pieces and Dev's fiancée Isa is like Santana's long lost twin sister."

Quinn smiled at the mention of Devon Jones, Mercedes' older brother. He'd been protective, a complete flirt and sweetheart when she'd stayed with the Jones family—everything a big brother should be.

"Are you sure, 'Cedes?"

"Girl please," Mercedes laughed. "It's practically set in stone. Momma has already dusted up the old furniture and Daddy has already started bugging me about when his 'Quinnifer' is coming back."

* * *

><p>This was a bit on the shorter end, I know, but the next installation shall feature the always fabulous Sue Slyvester plus Quinn and Sam get have a cute little conversation that may or may not bite several people in the ass...<p>

Thanks for reading and don't forge that cute little purple-ish button below ;)

Much Love,

Santiva Potter

Song Credit: _Tonight, Tonight _by Hot Chelle Rae


	4. Chapter 4 Better Left UnSaid

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, I do not own Glee. Or Chord Overstreet's abs, though I'd like to ;)

**Quick A/N: **So I screwed up a bit last chapter. Mercedes has an older brother who's engaged to a woman named Isabella, Isa for short _not _Reina. Hopefully, I'll be able to introduce in the future...But anyway, enjoy!

* * *

><p>Carry Me Home<p>

_My lover she is waiting for_

_Just across the bar_

_My seats been taken by some sunglasses_

_Asking about a scar…_

-"We Are Young" Fun. feat. Janelle Monae

Chapter 4 – Better Left (Un)Said

"So I hear they're breaking you out of here today."

Quinn's day had been terribly boring—so boring that any visitor was welcome, even Coach Sue Sylvester's surprising one.

"Yeah," Quinn said sitting up in her bed. "In just a few hours…"

"Well, I won't take up too much of your time," Coach Sylvester said entering the room. "I hate hospitals and frankly the smell of this room is making Junior perfect her double summersaults."

"Her?" Quinn asked as politely as she could. "You're going to name your daughter, Junior?"

"Sue Sylvester Junior and depending on how this round goes, I'll have a Sue Sylvester the III or maybe a Jean."

"I think Jean is a lovely name," Quinn smiled.

Coach Sylvester nods and smiles politely—her awkward polite that clearly shows her attempt to stray from the sentimental. "So Brittany tells me that you and McCripple Pants are going to start making some four legged babies."

"Me and Artie?" Quinn laughed warily. "No, but I am getting a wheelchair. Just for three weeks but...I should return your uniform in the meantime."

"There's no rush," Coach Sylvester replied. Her eyes stayed almost uneasily on Quinn's with a type of understanding that the blonde wasn't too fond of. She would much rather prefer a tangent about why the arts or Mr. Schue's hairdresser were evil reincarnations, but Sue Sylvester's sympathy…

"Hey coach."

Becky Jackson had walked in, her small frame nearly swallowed by the vase of red roses that she carried.

"There you are Becky. I was starting to think that Junior and I were going to have to fish you out of one of the toilets."

Becky smiled at Sue as she sat Quinn's roses on her bedside table. "Feel better Fabray," she said kindly.

"The girls wanted to make sure you go that," Sue said. "That or Satan scarred them all into contributing, which I suppose is likely."

Quinn fought a smile as the door re-opened.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Sam Evans had half of his body peeking through the door, taking in the dynamics between the three women.

"No, we'll leave you with Blondie here," Coach Sylvester said, taking her leave with Becky. "Take care."

Sam stepped back to let them through and then peaked his head back through again, shooting Quinn a goofy smile.

"You can come inside, you know," Quinn said.

"I know, but I've got a surprise," he said, pushing the door open.

"Me!"

From behind his legs sprang Stacie, her blonde hair bouncing as she made a beeline for Quinn's bed. Sam scooped her up when she found it difficult to reach, and the young girl curled herself into Quinn's lap.

"Stacie Evans! Look at you, you're so big!" Quinn cooed, accepting her embrace. "When did you get here?"

"I was supposed to go home this weekend, but I decided to kidnap them Friday night instead," Sam said taking a seat. "I wanted to give my parents a break."

He was lying, at least partially, Quinn was sure. Sam was a passionate guy and while they were no longer in a relationship, she knew her accident had more to do with Sam staying in Lima than he would care to admit.

"Sammy, told us about your accident and I wanted to come up and kiss your booboo to make it better," Stacie added beaming. Quinn couldn't help but smile back. The child had a heart of gold.

"My folks send their best wishes of course," Sam continued.

"Yeah," Stacie added. "Mommy and Daddy both said they hope you feel better Quinnie."

While the love from the Evans family touched her dearly, Quinn was quite sure that Mrs. Evans had explicitly said no such thing—or maybe she had, Quinn knew she should give the woman more credit—but Alexandra Evans had _never _been a fan of Quinn Fabray, and when she had cheated on Sam…

The tight smile on Sam's lips was either a confirmation of Quinn's suspicion or his own reminiscing.

Little Stacie dominated most of the conversation, rambling about school, their new home and adventures with her brother. At the mention of Stevie, Quinn asked where the other rambunctious Evans was.

"With Dr. Jones," Sam answered. "He'd been complaining about a toothache on the way up, so I stopped by his office to see if he could take a quick look. He's probably at Mercedes' now, eating half the food. Speaking of which, I hear you're moving back into her place."

"Yeah, Mrs. Jones was really understanding about the whole thing. It's just—the best thing for me right now."

"I'll bet," Sam smiled. "No one throws down in the kitchen like Mrs. Jones. And Dr. Jones on the grill…"

"Oooh, I'm gonna tell mommy you said that!" Stacie teased. Sam stuck his tongue out in protest and the young girl giggled.

"Sammy, can I go to the bathroom?"

"Sure squirt. Let's find a nurse to take you."

The charge in the room was different when Sam returned, almost as if the heart-warming feelings had fleeted along with Stacie in her trip to the restroom.

"So when do you get the chair?"

"Soon," Quinn replied. "My mother is supposed to come down with it."

Sam nodded, before looking Quinn in the eye saying, "I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks Sam, I am too. Mercy told me about your prayer. Thank you, though I am _not _crazy."

Sam grinned. "I call it, like I see it!"

"Does that apply to just my emotional turmoil or everything else too?"

"Well unfortunately, everything," Sam replied. "It's gotten me a _great _track record so far."

"I heard," Quinn said. "I also heard that you, Mike and Artie were stuck trying to keep everyone together."

"Why do you say that like it's a crazy thing?" Sam asked. "We love you. We nearly thought we lost you, Quinn. If there's anything that I've learned about Glee club is that we may screw each other over daily, but when it comes down to it—"

"—or when a show choir competition is on the line—"

"—we come together," Sam smiled. "_Come together, right now. Over me._"

"Good God Sam! I swear next year you're going to be voted most likely to break out into song," Quinn teased.

"Maybe, but right now that title is owned by Rachel Berry."

At the mention on her name, Quinn's attention strayed—not that this was a new occurrence—and reminded her of the brief tension that had peaked earlier in Santana's visits whenever the brunette was brought up…amongst other things…

"Be honest with me Sam," Quinn began. "How was everyone?"

"While you were under? A mess," Sam said. "We were more like zombies than anything and Rachel—"

"What about Rachel?" Quinn pressed.

"Nothing," Sam replied backpedaling. "She just felt really guilty."

"Sam, has anyone mention to you lately, how terrible of a liar you are?" Quinn asked.

"Don't know what you mean," Sam shrugged, his eyes zoning in on a dent above Quinn's head.

"You're hiding something. Something about Rachel. You...you _and_ Santana—"

"Me and Santana, what? What Quinn?"

Quinn closed her eyes and bit down tightly on her bottom lip, trying to steady her breathing. There was no _fucking _way. She had been discreet, beyond discreet. Rachel didn't even know yet, how could Santana or Sam?

"Quinn!" Sam pressed grasping her shoulders.

When she reopened her eyes, Sam's emerald ones met hers instantly. His were filled with concern, fear…and was that a bit of regret?

"Sam," Quinn enunciated slowly. "What do you know?"

"Nothing," Sam replied promptly. Her monitors spiked, a tall tale sign of Quinn's stress. He was lying, she could see it.

"Sam," she snapped.

"Quinn, just relax—"

"Tell me the truth!"

"Quinn—"

"Sam!"

"I know."

His voice broke over the submission, but he couldn't handle her breaking down on him. "I know you have a thing for Rachel Berry."

"Is that it?" Quinn asked, her pitch rising. She could handle this. It was just Sam. He wouldn't tell Evans wouldn't _dare._ "Please tell me that's it…"

"Oh my god," Quinn gasped watching Sam's face twist in guilt. "She—she _knows_?"

"She told me, actually," Sam confessed. With the look that she was giving him, Sam was quite surprised that Quinn's monitors didn't flat line.

"Quinn, I need you to breathe," Sam instructed. "It's not all bad—"

"Not all bad?" Quinn snapped. "Rachel Berry _knows_! She knows I-I-"

"And she's not exactly running away from it either," Sam said.

"Excuse me?"

"The day you woke up," Sam sighed, "before that Rachel wouldn't come to the hospital. She wasn't talking to anyone, not even Finn. But I saw her in the park and when she told me about her suspicions—I think that was the first time that she admitted it out loud, to herself, and while I'm sure it wasn't the only reason—"

"Get to the point, Sam," Quinn snapped, breathing slowly.

"I think it drove her to come back. To see you," Sam finished.

"She came to visit me," Quinn said softly. "By herself, she came."

Sam nodded. Quinn didn't have much time for the new to settle. Stacie had returned with a large lollipop in her mouth and one of the nurses trailing in behind her.

"I'm back!" the young Evans announced. With Sam's help she crawled back into Quinn's lap as the nurse checked her vitals.

"Looks like you had a pulse spike, sweetheart. Are you alright?"

Quinn nodded weakly, holding onto Stacie and the nurse eyed Sam for the briefest of moments before turning back to Quinn.

"Well, your mother just called. She's on her way, so I'm going to go and get your chair ready," the nurse said before leaving.

"Do you want us to stay until she gets here?" Sam asked.

"You don't have to," Quinn replied, running her hands though Stacie's hair. "Besides, if my mom sees you here, she'll think that we're dating again, and she and Mrs. Jones gossip like nobody else's business, so…"

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, especially not about Mercedes hearing something," Sam said. "There's nothing to hear, not that she would care."

"I don't know," Quinn smiled softly. "She was all sorts of green in the face when Tina was talking about you the other day."

"Really," Sam scoffed.

"I'm serious, Sam," Quinn said. "'Cedes…she just needs time."

"I miss 'Cedes," Stacie murmured softly into Quinn's arms.

Sam didn't respond to either of them, but instead tossed the television remote to Stacie and told her to flip to something that the three of them could watch until Mrs. Fabray arrived. When she did, Mrs. Irene Jones was with them and she smiled brightly at the sight of Sam's younger sister.

"There's my other little munchkin!"

Stacie briefly went into Mrs. Jones' embrace, before returning to the edge of the bed, while Quinn, aided by her mother and a few nurses, was slowly moved into her new wheelchair.

"You don't look so good," Mrs. Jones told Sam quietly as they both watched Quinn struggle.

"I've been worse," Sam replied. "Don't have much to complain about."

"Then get some more sleep!" Mrs. Jones chided. "You look like the living dead. Though, it is good to see a hint of a smile on that handsome face of yours."

Sam's cheeks reddened.

"Sammy can I go with Quinnie to Mercy's house?" Stacie asked, climbing back into Quinn's lap. The slightly pained and carefully displaced look of frustration that Quinn wore as she moved from the bed was starting to disappear as Stacie settled in her lap.

"As long as Mrs. Jones is okay with it," Sam replied.

"Of course, I am baby doll," Mrs. Jones said. "And you're welcome to come by too, Sam, and stay for dinner, of course."

"Oh, I don't think that's a good—"

"Child, I don't care if you and Mercedes can't stand to breathe the same air. I _said_—"

"I'm going to start up the van," Judy Fabray said, temporarily saving Sam. "It's good to see you again, Samuel."

"You too, ma'am," Sam replied.

"I'll see you Monday Sam or whenever you pick Stevie and Stacie up," Quinn said an arm around his sister. "And thanks…for the visit."

Sam nodded and watched them leave. When he turned back to Mercedes' mother, she was still glaring at him.

"It's not that," Sam said quickly. "Burt wanted some help moving the new furniture he has coming in today. Plus I'm supposed to work the late shift at the garage tonight."

"You are lying through your teeth, Sam Evans," Mrs. Jones frowned. "But I'll let you get away with it this _once_. Isa and Dev will be there tonight, so I'll have to deal with more than enough crazy, but the next time I offer, do understand that it is **not **a request."

Sam nodded quickly and she gave him a hard look before kissing him on the cheek softly.

"Give Burt and Carole, my best."

"Will do," Sam said. "And thanks for the offer Mrs. Jones. I'll call before swinging by to pick up Stevie and Stacie."

"Our front door is always open," she promised before taking her leave.

Sam used every distraction he could think of on the way back, not quite ready to retrace his conversations with either Quinn or Mrs. Jones. When he arrived at the Hummel-Hudson residence, he found Kurt and Blaine lounging in the kitchen, Blaine taste testing Kurt's latest meal.

"You came back without my princess!" Kurt gasped dramatically.

"Sorry, bro. She heard about Quinn going to Mercy's and decided to jump ship. You're stuck with me for the night."

"The kids are going to spend the night at Mercedes'?" Blaine asked.

"Maybe," Sam shrugged. "I'll call over there after my shift tonight and see what Dr. Jones says. The Jones' love them to pieces so they probably will."

"Well, if Stevie and Stacie get to spend the night, you should work something out to stay there too," Kurt said.

"Kurt," Sam groaned. "Let's not go there, please."

"No let him stay," Blaine objected winking at Sam. "It can be just like old times when Sam used to lounge around here with his shirt off…"

"You always did like that, didn't you Blaine-y boy," Sam teased.

"Excuse you two! I'm standing right here!" Kurt huffed trying to hide a smile.

"Well, I know that Kurt's great and all," Sam continued slipping his shirt over his head and making his way to the kitchen door. "But you could have all of _this_."

"You have to admit, babe, it's a tempting offer," Blaine said to Kurt, who rolled his eyes.

"Quit trying to seduce my boyfriend and get out of my kitchen!" Kurt ordered, "Or you won't get dinner for a week!"

Sam laughed on his way out, hollering over his shoulder to tell Blaine to 'think things through'. He headed up, taking the steps two at a time, but nearly ran into a descending Rachel Berry, who took a step back at the sight of him.

"Hey," Sam said softly.

"Sam," Rachel nodded politely.

"Sorry, if I'm making you uncom—"

"Oh-oh n-no, Finn has quite a nice chest," Rachel replied. "Maybe not as _defined _as yours, but his is good."

"Finn, right," Sam sighed softly. "Listen, Rachel, have you spoken to Quinn yet?"

"No, but I heard for Kurt that she's getting out of the hospital today. So I imagine that we'll run into each other at school and of course, glee club."

"Well, when you do, you should probably talk to her—you know about all those…feelings?"

Rachel nodded sidestepping Sam around the steps."I know…it's just…I," she stuttered before settling with, "You're good friend, Sam."

"Well, that's who I am, Sam the good friend. But seriously Rachel, you really should talk to—"

"Rachel!"

Behind them, Finn appeared, descending down the steps, carrying what looked to be one of Rachel's sweaters.

"Dude! Put a shirt on," Finn said. "That's my wife. You left this by the way." He handed her the bright cardigan and she kissed him lightly in thanks.

Frowning slightly, Sam replied, "No can do man. I gotta make sure that Mrs. Hudson here remembers all that she missed out on."

Finn rolled his eyes, chuckling, "Whatever, dude, just save that for Mercedes—"

"Oh hell no!" Blaine hollered from the other room. "I called shirtless Sam first!"

"—COD before your shift?" Finn chuckled.

"Sure Finn," Sam laughed. "Let me just take a quick shower. And Rachel?"

Her brown eyes met his cautiously, already clouded with doubt.

"Anytime you want to talk, I'm here," Sam began, free of any mirth. "I'd be happy to give you some pointers...you know on how to live with Princess Finnessa, here."

She nodded and gave him a small conflicted smile. "Thank you Sam. I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

><p>Believe it or not, but the update is Quinn's first day at school and some are going to have <em>a lot <em>to say, and others-not so much...

As always thank you for your lovely reviews and favorites and don't forget to hit the purple/blue button on your way out and tell me what you think!

Much Love,

Santiva Potter

Song Credit: _Come Together _by The Beatles


	5. Chapter 5 I'd Love You to Want Me

**Disclaimer: **I sadly, do not own Glee. If I did there would be no hiatus, though that would also mean this story wouldn't be here because I'd be too busy fangirling...

* * *

><p>Carry Me Home<p>

_Now I know that_

_I'm not all that you got_

_I guess that I_

_I just thought _

_maybe we could find new ways to fall apart_

-"We Are Young" Fun. feat. Janelle Monae

Chapter 5 I'd _Love_ You to _Want_ Me

"This already feels like too much," Quinn said as her mother and Mrs. Jones pushed her and Stacie Evans inside.

"Well that's just too darn bad," Mrs. Jones smiled, "because it's about to get a lot worse!"

"Mercedes!" Stacie cried out once the diva was in view. Steve stood alongside her and the two Evans children temporarily switched places, Stacie heading for Mercedes' open arms and Stevie running—quite literally—into Quinn's right side, in an attempt to hug her.

The pain was immediate and ran through her body faster than she could have believed possible. Mrs. Jones had Stevie off of her the second after his mistake, but the pain throbbed even as Mercedes softly chided him.

"What did I say about being more careful, Stevie?"

"Sorry, Quinn," the young Evans mumbled.

"I'm gonna tell Sammy!" Stacie announced, to which Mercedes quickly replied, "You will do no such thing, unless _you_ want to get in trouble with Sam."

As the pain slowly subsided, Quinn couldn't help but notice how well Mercedes got along with Sam's younger siblings. Stacie loved her, that much she was sure, but even when she was dating Sam, Stevie had never been as attached to Quinn as he was to Mercy. The Evans children were sweethearts, who would shower her with endless affection if she asked, but they gave it to Mercedes without question. They looked at her the same way they looked at Sam—like they were hers.

_Are you really getting jealous, Que_? She shook the thoughts from her head, but couldn't help but wonder how much of Sam's motive to bring the kids up to Lima had involved his constant goal of becoming Mr. Mercedes Jones.

"How about we show Que-bear her new room?" Mercedes suggested. Stacie was settled on her hips and Stevie kept one arm wrapped around Mercedes' leg. "What do you say, Que?"

Once Mercy put Stacie back in Quinn's lap, she pushed her past the kitchen, living room and dining room to where Mercedes' grandmother used to stay.

"Are you sure about this?" Quinn asked turning to face her friend.

"Yes child," Mercedes replied. "Now close your eyes, I've got a surprise for you!"

The entire room had been repainted from the original beige to a soft emerald green. White paint trimmed all of the windows on the right wall. Her prized vanity set was arranged closest to the door, with her makeup already in place. And on the left wall…the left was painted in the same shade of emerald, but over it was a collage of her name and every nickname it seemed that people had come up with over the years, all written in a flawless cursive that could only belong to Tina.

_Quinnifer_ was the largest—no doubt at Mr. Jones' insistence—_Que_ and _Barbie_ doll weren't too far behind. Both _Ice Queen_ and _Princess_ were up there, surely Santana's suggestion._ A little bit crazy_ was one of the smaller ones and the only one not written in Tina's prose. Quinn made a mental note to smack Sam later.

"The collage was Tina's idea," Mercedes said as Quinn continued to take it all in. "She had been talking about it for a while. Rachel picked the color because she said—"

"—it matches my eyes," Quinn smiled.

"Yeah. We figured you'd like that. Brittany wanted to paint it all, but…we uh, convinced her otherwise."

There were more generic ones like _Beautiful_ or _Dazzling_. Quinn smiled brightly as her fingers ran over _Unholy Trinity_, which was just below _Honorary Diva_. At the bottom of it all, with thick brush strokes, Tina had written _Member of New Directions_.

"This is _definitely _too much."

"Don't cry Quinnie," Stacie begged softly resting her cheek against Quinn's left side.

"Stevie, Stace, why don't you two run off into the kitchen and see if Mama Jones needs any help," Mercedes suggested. They each gave Quinn a quick kiss on the cheek before sprinting out, racing into the next room.

"Sometimes, you look at them as if they're your own," Quinn said softly watching Mercedes eye the disappearing children. If bringing them up had been a ploy by Sam, he was better than Quinn originally thought—it was working.

"Maybe," Mercedes muttered "but enough about me. Do you like it?"

"Mercy, I love it. I still can't believe you all did this."

"We love you Que," Mercedes reminded. "C'mon let's go. Once Dev gets here we can come in and show him where to put your stuff."

"Mercedes, that's—"

"I know that you're going to tell me how you don't need Devon or anyone for that matter helping you unpack, but last week that boy was working Mama's last nerve, so she's decided to make him her little 'bitch'—her words, if you can believe it—Dev is in deep shit and I for one am going to sit back and enjoy it!"

Quinn laughed along with Mercedes, but as she eyed the height of one of her new dressers, which even she could admit was _probably _out of reach, Quinn wondered how much bull she could call from Mercedes' fib.

Quinn was given an additional 3 days off from school, which included long, frustrating and painful sessions with the physical therapist. There was so much to learn and while she knew that she should take off more time, Quinn Fabray was utterly bored. So by Thursday morning, she had weaseled her way into Mercedes' car—it was actually Dev's but since it was bigger than Mercy's car and easier for Quinn to get in and out of, they traded—and back to McKinley.

The place hadn't changed since her temporary departure. Everyone treaded in and out of the school in their designated cliques. The Cherrio girls clung to their uniforms like a life line and with football season done, it was the basketball jocks that strutted proudly through the school. Quinn sat outside of the passenger's door, absorbing it all, as Mercedes rummaged through her purse behind her.

And then Rachel Berry arrived.

She wore one of her dorky sweaters—bright yellow with a white smiley face across her chest. A Rachel Berry patented plaid skirt—yellow, white and black with a silk black ribbon that tied into a bow in the front—accompanied the sweater. Her hair hung straight and relaxed and Quinn noticed that her left hand ring finger was curiously bare.

"Hey hot mama," Mercedes greeted, oblivious to the sight—to the news, _the good news_. Quinn could barely contain her excitement.

"Mercedes, you look lovely as ever," Rachel smiled. "Why don't you let me take Quinn inside. Sugar is looking for you and just between you and me, you may want to avoid the choir room, Sam is waiting for you there—with _roses_."

_Please take a hint, please take a hint! _

The chanting was unnecessary. Rachel had Mercedes at Sam and the diva left immediately, muttering under her breath about 'a lovesick puppy'.

"Was that true?" Quinn asked trying to get her breathing under control. Rachel had squatted down to eye level and rested her hands on the armrests. Quinn wished she had the sense to put her arms there instead of coiled in her lap.

"Waiting in the choir room with roses? No," Rachel answered, "but waiting by her locker…"

Quinn joined Rachel in her infectious laughter and the combination of them sounded like the most beautiful thing since Quinn heard Beth laugh last October.

"I missed you Quinn," Rachel said softly, her hands moving to Quinn's knees. The simple touch sent fire through Quinn's veins as she tried to keep the blush down and answered, "I missed you too."

Rachel beamed brightly, biting her bottom lip for a minute before asking, "Quinn?"

"Quinn?"

"_Quinn!_"

A strong grip shook Quinn's right shoulder and she jumped in her chair as Mercedes' concerned face came into view.

"Quinn are you okay?"

McKinley was still there, but gone was Rachel and her sunny disposition.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure, because we still have time to go bac—"

"I said, I'm fine Mercedes," Quinn snapped.

"I'm just trying to help," Mercedes said after a moment. "You went off into Lala land for a good minute Que."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled in response. All Quinn had been trying to keep her cool. She tried not to get fed up with the sympathy and pity looks from the Jones and her mother gave, _every damn day, _but it was hard. Physical therapy was hard. Being resorted to only her arms was hard—even if it was for only a few weeks.

_And if the surgery does go as planned…_

Forcing a smile, Quinn turned to Mercedes and said, "C'mon let's head inside."

Their first stop was to Quinn's new locker. It was just down the hall from Artie's—a bit too convenient, but Quinn didn't say anything. As Mercedes helped her put up books, Quinn heard laughter that rushed to her core.

The _real _Rachel Berry strolled down the hall, her husband by her side, their hands wrapped around the other, with Rachel's ring dazzling even under the dull wonder that is McKinley's lights.

Finn was the first to notice her.

"Hey! I didn't think you were coming back until next week," he smiled.

"Needed some fresh air," Quinn replied. She tried not starring at the ring, she really did, but it was damn near impossible.

"So, you guys decided to make it official," Quinn said trying to smile.

"Yeah—uh, I know you weren't the most supportive originally," Finn started shifting a bit.

"Hey, don't worry about it. So long as both of you are happy," Quinn cut over him forcing a smile. "You are both happy, right?" Her eyes settled on Rachel's, softly pleading for anything to hold onto. Rachel seemed to gaze over Quinn's intense stare to Finn, whose cheek she kissed before answering, "Beyond happy. And of course, we're overjoyed that you're back. We'll definitely need your voice for Nationals—"

"Really Rachel? Not one conversation without mentioning Nationals?" Mercedes frowned. She had been engrossed in her phone—deleting old heartfelt messages from Sam.

"Mr. Schue is right, Mercedes," Rachel replied. "I thought you'd agree. Nationals has to take full priority—"

"—there are other important things coming up besides Nationals, Rachel Berry," Mercedes snapped.

"Hudson," she corrected stiffly, and Finn couldn't keep a small smile from forming. "It's Rachel Hudson."

"That's beside the point—"

"Rachel is right," Quinn spoke up. "Nationals should be our number one focus, if we're going to win."

"Excuse me, but _fuck _Nationals if that means you get to walk across the graduation stage and if I get to—"

"—walk down the aisle to be Mrs. Sam Evans," Finn half teased.

"—_go to the University of Chicago, Finn_," Mercedes snapped. "And if I were you I'd quit while you're still ahead, unless you **want** Rachel to become a widow before she graduates."

Quinn couldn't help but admit—at least silently—that she wanted Finn to egg her on, in hope for such an outcome.

"All those things aside, Graduation won't be the same without winning Nationals," Rachel said squeezing Mercedes' hand. "Think about it." She kissed Mercedes' cheek quickly, before darting down the hall with Finn in tow.

She kissed _Mercedes' _cheek.

Fucking Mercedes.

Now, Quinn loved the girl like no other—they were after all soul sisters, but how does Mercy get a kiss on the cheek from Rachel and she's left with an empty compliment about her voice?

"Did Rachel Berry just _kiss _me?"

At least Mercedes had the sense to be just as appalled as Quinn was.

Glee club was just after 3rd period, right before lunch and it was a good thing too. With barely half of the day done, Quinn was meeting her wits end. As if the pity looks or the realization that she had a hell of a game of catch-up awaiting her wasn't enough, the number of times that Quinn had to turn around and find an obnoxious, out of the way detour, thanks to the insane abundance of stairs at McKinley was enough to drive Quinn mad. The first time she had a taste of this sophomore year, it had been cute. Right now, it was far from it. Due to this, Quinn was the last one to enter the choir room—though she was met with a thunderous applause. The only slight comfort had come from Artie, who smiled at her sympathetically, as if he already knew how her day had gone. Hell, he probably did. He lived it.

"Alright, alright, everybody settle down, settle down," Mr. Schuester smiled. "Quinn, we are of course thrilled to have you back, but it's time we start focusing on Nationals, which will be in _Los Angeles _this year. Now, while the 'Get Pumped' assignment is continuous, this—"

"If that's the case, Mr. Schue?" Tina interrupted, "before you go on with this week's lesson, do you mind if Britt and I did a quick number?"

"Take it away!"

As Brittany and Tina made their way down to the floor, Quinn vaguely noticed that the ever-changing style of Tina Cohen-Chang had adapted to blend better with her blonde companion's flirty get-up.

"Those leather boots that Tina's wearing...aren't those Brittany's?" Mercedes whispered to Santana.

"Yeah…she stole them from _me_!"

"So this song is a classic and needs no introduction," Tina smiled. "So boys, if you'd please…"

The lead drummer from the Jazz band started them off with the intro from the famous Cheap Trick number as Tina sang and electrified 'Hey' that caused Mercedes to cheer loudly. By the time the guitar rift came in, even Quinn cracked a small smile.

_I want you to want me.  
>I need you to need me.<br>I'd love you to love me.  
>I'm beggin' you to beg me.<br>_

Their voices surprisingly went quite well together and the pair of them danced and flirted their way down the front row, where Mike sat, with his jaw on the floor.

"Don't look now," Santana whispered, her eyes never leaving Britt, "but Trouty Mouth wants to drill a hole in the back of your head and if you do glance behind you, I'm afraid that that your eyes will fall out. God knows when I look at his face, my lady lions shrivel up and die."

"Not what you were saying last week!" Mercedes hissed back.

_I'll shine up my old brown shoes.  
>I'll put on a brand new shirt<br>I'll get home early from work  
>if you say that you love me.<em>

"I said his _face_, which happens to hold that enormous pie hole, he calls a mouth," Santana replied, winking at her girlfriend as she danced around them. "When I get to watch his body roll or see him without a shirt on, then yes, it's my panties that shrivel up and die."

_Didn't I, didn't I, didn't I, see you cryin'  
>Oh, Didn't I, didn't I, didn't I, see you cryin'<br>Feelin' all alone without a friend  
>you know you feel like dyin'<br>Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I, see you cryin'_

Santana snorted loudly as Brittany and Tina somehow ended up singing the last few lines to Sam, Tina apologetically, Brittany too wrapped up in the tune to care. They continued to rock the song until its final chords, which was met by a loud approval by the rest of the club—Mike was giving a standing ovation and Santana, not to be outdone, was whistling obnoxiously loud from her seat.

"Very nice Tina and Brittany," Mr. Schue congratulated. "Seriously, girls that was fabulous!"

"And may I add, Brittany," Santana announced, "you can have me any time you'd like babe—preferably without the Cherrios uniform on."

"Santana!" Mercedes hushed.

"What?" Santana shrugged. "Just being honest!"

"Awh, I love being naked with you," Brittany replied moving to sit next to her girlfriend.

"As cute as that performance was, I don't think we need to hear your dirty laundry, Santana, Brittany," Quinn interrupted stiffly.

"Quinn's right," Mr. Schue said as Santana suspiciously eyed the back of the blonde's head. "Now for this week, I want you all to focus…"

"How long has sunshine been acting like this?" Santana asked Mercedes.

"Let it go, San," Mercedes whispered. "The two of you can be a bit much at times, plus she's dealing with a lot."

"But," Santana pressed.

Mercedes sighed softly before hastily answering, "It probably started this morning, before school. Finn and Rachel came by her new locker and Rachel went on this mini 'Nationals is everything' tirade, completely disregarding Quinn's accident and she _kissed _me which was all sorts of weird…"

Santana put on the perfect face that kept her attention on both what Mr. Schue was telling the class and Mercedes' mini rant, but when her friend was finished, Santana zoned back in on Quinn. She hadn't missed the side eye looks that held a definite splash of longing and slight scorn. Santana wanted to pass it off as nothing. Rachel's behavior, as told by Mercedes, seemed nothing short of Rachel Berry being her usual _awkward, self-absorbed, and annoying as hell _Rachel Berry. Perhaps Quinn's stony behavior was because of the adjustment struggle. Mercedes did have a point, being confined to a wheelchair wasn't easy and even Santana gave Artie points for not wearing it as a weight on his shoulders.

Then Santana's eyes trailed to Sam. He seemed transfixed on whatever Mr. Schue was saying, but he didn't seem particularly enthused about it. And when his eyes did waver, instead of flickering off to Mercedes as she expected—_dare she say hoped—_Santana found that his gaze shifted uneasily between Quinn and also Rachel, who was wrapped in Finn's embrace.

Rachel watching Finn. Quinn watching Rachel. Sam watching them both. And Finn clueless as ever.

Santana tried to shake the build-up of rage. She wasn't even _certain _yet, and exploding in the middle of rehearsal would get them nowhere.

But she definitely needed to have another private conversation with her ex…

* * *

><p>I need some TinaBrittany songs. Or just some Tina songs in general. When she mentioned that she just wanted a song in OMW, I almost died of laughter (and cried inside because it's _so _true)! But in other news...somebody's in trouble! The next update _should_ be here by the end of the week. Thank you as always for reading and please don't forget to review. I love reviews, they're what keep me going and I'd love to hear more of your insight!

Much Love,

Santiva Potter

Song Credit: "I Want You to Want Me" by Cheap Trick


	6. Chapter 6 If It Ain't Broke

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I don't glee. If did, I would make Amber Riley wear a black corset, with black jeans in every scene that she's in. She was _flawless _a Perez's birthday party. Just putting that out into the universe.

* * *

><p>Carry Me Home<p>

maybe we could find new ways to fall apart

But our friends are back

So let's raise a toast

'Cause I found someone to carry me home

-"We Are Young" Fun. feat. Janelle Monae

Chapter 6 – If It Ain't Broke

There were a few benefits to banging nearly every guy in McKinley—firstly it made Santana Lopez fearless. There was nothing in the boy's locker room to scare her off. She'd been there done, done that and wrote the damn book that half the Cheerios used to get their air-headed boyfriends off. Secondly, her reputation garnered her the ability to trash talk and defame anyone she pleased, an easy access to getting someone's undivided attention—which was handy when she barged in on a group of guys changing from Phys. Ed.

"Jesus Christ Santana"

"Fuck!"

"Dude, there's a vagina in here!"

"Glad to see that your eyes are working, Rick," Santana snapped. "Now all of you put your panties back on. I'm into _girls_, geniuses. That means that there's very _little _of interest for me in here—every pun intended."

"So, um, what is it exactly that you want?" Rory asked timidly, clinging to the small white towel around his waist. The only one who didn't look like a virgin fearfully protecting their virtue was Puck. He would have just dropped the towel and strode around proud and free…if he hadn't been certain that Santana would come back around later for his balls.

"Where's Sam?" she demanded.

A wet mop of blonde hair peered around the cinderblock walls that led to the shower stalls.

"Outside. _Now_." Santana growled before making her exit.

Throwing on a pair of basketball shorts and a worn red tee, Sam raced to follow his ex while trying to stifle his own anxiety. She led him to an empty classroom and once he closed the door behind him, Santana slapped him across the back of his head.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Santana replied. "What part of '_don't tell Quinn' _is difficult for that brain of yours to process?"

"I don't know what you're talking—"

"At the hospital, Sammy. After we agreed that you were full of shit, we also agreed that Quinn didn't need to know anything about Rachel possibly have a lady boner for her."

_Shit. _

Sam briefly contemplated lying to her. It hadn't technically been his fault, but as Sam shifted slowly, his body racked with tension, Santana's suspicions were confirmed.

"What the hell did you tell her," Santana asked coolly.

"She picked up on most of it," Sam gave in. "She knew that you were hiding something from her, something about Rachel. I didn't really say anything; she figured it out on her own and flipped out. I just…confirmed what she already knew."

"And what, lying is suddenly above you? Jesus Sam! You need to fix this, because while you were lusting for Mercedes yesterday, sour-face Quinn was left sending pitiful one-sided eye sex Rachel Berry's way."

"I'll talk to her," Sam promised.

"And not screw it up even more?"

"It was my mistake, I'll fix it Santana."

"I hope you know what you're doing because Quinn is dealing with enough bullshit. And if this turns into some more Glee drama—drama that Mercedes finds out about , you have to kiss those daydreams of kinky haired green eyed babies goodbye."

"I got it, Santana," Sam snapped.

In after school Glee club rehearsal, Sam could feel Santana's glare on his back. He stuck by Mike's side trying to focus on the sheet music in front of him. They were cycling through their options for a group number at Nationals. Rachel dominated most of the conversation with Kurt adding in occasional pointers. Mercedes stood on the other side of the room, splitting her attention between the music and Tina, who blatantly ignored the rehearsal as she fervently argued with her friend. Quinn's mother had come to pick her up once school ended for a doctor's appointment, but otherwise everyone else in New Directions was here.

"Sam!"

Rachel's shrill voice cut through Sam's haze and he could feel Santana's gaze intensify—it also didn't help that he once again had the attention of everyone in New Directions.

"We need more of the tenor voice in that last run," Mr. Schue instructed, shooting him a concerned look. Sam nodded, internally pleading for the man to continue with the music. Mr. Schue relented his gaze when Rachel cut in rambling about something else that she would probably repeat for the rest of the semester. But in that moment, Sam had never before been more thankful for her affinity to talk.

Rachel Berry's love of talking also made her the last person to leave the choir room, discussing other possible numbers with Mr. Schue. Finn left before rehearsal was over—he had a conference with one of his teachers. Kurt and Blaine dipped the minute they were released and frankly Sam didn't want to think about where they were off to. They looked much too pleased with themselves. So with Quinn gone and none of her close friends to distract her, Sam decided to linger back for his brunette friend. Santana didn't look too pleased but followed Mercedes out—along with Brittany and Sugar the four girls were wrapped in planning their TroubleTone number.

"Sam," Rachel smiled brightly upon realizing that he was lingering behind. "Are you here for Mr. Schue or…"

"You actually."

"Oh." Her smile faltered slightly, but Rachel wrapped up her conversation with Mr. Schue and took a seat next to him.

"So, what can I do for you Sam?"

"Quinn seemed pretty upset yesterday," Sam began.

Rachel stiffened in the creaky chair and flattened the pleats of her skirt. "Well, there could be several reasons for that. You'd be better off talking to Mercedes or Santana. They spend the most time with her. I'm sure it can't be easy to—"

"Rachel, be honest. I think you know why Quinn was upset."

"Actually, I don't," Rachel snapped, rising to her feet. "I haven't done anything to Quinn."

"No, you're just ignoring her."

"I'm not ignoring her. I've just been...busy. I have my obligations to my family. To Finn. To New Directions—"

"And what about your obligations to Rachel," Sam pressed. "What about the part of you that's…confused."

"There is _**no **_part of me that's confused," Rachel replied stiffly. "I couldn't be happier as Finn's wife."

"And two weeks ago?"

"Two weeks ago…I was over emotional due to my grief. But Quinn's recovery has lifted a heavy load from my shoulders and now…now there's nothing else for me to worry over."

"Rachel, you said that she—"

"Her infatuation with me is flattering but ultimately will not be reciprocated," she insisted gathering her things and heading out. "I trust you to pass that along to her."

"Tell her yourself," Sam challenged. "You turn her down yourself Rachel Berry. Don't send me or anyone else for that matter to do it. If you want to ignore the truth, that's one thing, but don't act like you're so above it all that you can send lap dogs to do your dirty work."

She froze at the door, but quickly pulled herself together and turned back to glare at Sam."You know frankly, Sam, I used to think you were a kind and understanding individual, but right now I don't think you can even fathom to understand half of the pressure that I'm under as...as an aspiring musical theater student."

"I'm not saying you have to leave Finn and run off into fields to forlick around with Quinn-"

"Then what, is it exactly, that you want Sam!"

"I want you to _talk to her_."

"Fine," Rachel huffed, stalking out. "I will."

When Sam managed to drag himself from the choir room, and through the empty halls that led to the student parking lot, he spotted a bubbly Mercedes at her locker accompanied by a tall male stranger.

"Evans!"

The deep throated voice turned to him and Sam could see Anthony Rashad pulling from Mercy's locker to meet him. Anthony had graduated the year before and had been a cool guy in Sam's book last year, showing him the ropes after Sam replaced Finn on the football team. The kid always wore a sly smile, which in this particular moment Sam wanted to knock right off his face.

Sam greeted him kindly enough, but his tight grin sent a bitter charge between them.

"So, synchronized swimming, huh?" Anthony teased. "Tell me there are at least some nice visual benefits running around the pool."

"None worth mentioning," Sam shrugged. Mercedes had yet to greet him, and Sam would be damned if he was going to be ignored. "I've got my eyes set on a higher prize."

She stopped trifling with the books in her locker at that, but made no further notion to join them.

"Oh really?" Anthony smiled. "Well then, you should get your girl and double with me some time. Or even better triple, once I get Mercy here back with her man."

"_Her man?" _Sam deadpanned.

"That's enough Anthony," Mercedes snapped shutting her locker. "Now unless you want to walk home…"

"I hear you, doll face," Anthony replied cutting off her empty threat. "I'll catch you later Sam. Hit me up sometime, man."

The older teen slung an arm over Mercedes shoulder as they turned and headed for the exit, leaving Sam stranded in his frustration.

"Hey Rashad!" Sam called after them. "I thought you were in Chicago for school?"

"Spring break, fool!" came the reply. "And don't forget to call me, punk! You owe me a round in Madden and I want to hook you up with my boy Tinsely."

"Fan-_fucking-_tastic," Sam muttered watching Mercedes walk away from him—again.

On the other side of town, parked in front of a row of tasteful homes, Rachel Berry found herself starring intently at the dashboard of her father's Prius. She prided herself in being a very driven and independent individual. She didn't need anyone to tell her where to go, what to do, how to act or who…who to love. And she loved Finn Hudson, of that she was absolutely sure. Quinn was just a distraction. It was pity and remorse that drove her affection for Quinn. Ever since sophomore year, when she blabbed to Finn about the pregnancy, Rachel has simply pitied Quinn Fabray. But pity isn't love. Pity is—

"Rachel?"

She nearly hit the roof of the small green car upon hearing her name. Mrs. Jones appeared at her window, worry etched on her face. Rachel was after all, parked in the woman's driveway.

"Are you waiting for Mercedes or Quinn?" she asked politely.

"Wha—no…no. I was on my way to Westerville and…I-I must have taken the wrong turn."

"Westerville?" Mrs. Jones repeated.

"To meet Kurt," Rachel explained. "The W-Warbles invited Blaine to sing with them and—he and , Kurt…we were going…going to watch the performance."

"Ah, I see," Mrs. Jones smiled kindly. "Well, it's shame that you have to go. Quinn should be getting back from the doctor's soon—unless you want to stay…"

"No, no," Rachel objected. "I-I should go. Don't want to be late."

"Of course, and Mrs. Hudson,"

"Y-Yes?"

"I just wanted to say congratulations. I wish you and Finn the best," she smiled politely.

"O-oh. Thank you Mrs. Jones."

Rachel turned the key and pulled out onto the main road. As she turned to exit the block, a white mini-van passed by. Quinn could be seen in the passenger seat, her mother at the wheel. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments before Rachel hit the gas.

* * *

><p>It's been awhile and this update turned out shorter than I intended so for that I'm sorry, but next update will be longer and should come a bit faster. Thank you as always for reading and please don't forget to review!<p>

Much Love,

Santiva Potter


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